The Heart of Fire
by Genesis Eclipse
Summary: One hundred and twenty five years after the events of the Night Angel trilogy. Like the account, I wrote this on a whim. No characters from the actual books will be used extensively.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The Night Angel. Definition: "He who judges the damned. The righter of wrongs. Revenge, Mercy and Justice." At least that is what old king Gyre's dictionary says. Strange one, King Gyre was. Changed this world- No, reformed it more or less. His regime was golden. The world entered a glory age under his rule. Some call him the greatest king to ever live. His empire was the epicenter of education and power. People flooded the streets of Elenea to meet with non-corrupt nobles, peace, and utter tranquility. That was, until King Gyre died. Many mourned his death and still do but his empire is a shadow –a glorious shadow- of its former self under the rule of his fool son Aedelas. And the Night Angel who saved them all? Well, some say he returned to the heaven from whence he came. It has been one hundred and twenty five years since the last meister walked Midcyru. Much that once was has faded into oblivion now. Powers have shifted. Revolutions have come and gone. Tensions are strained as always. There will be war. There will be blood. And by the Night Angels when the end of all things comes, let there be a hero to stand against it. Kylar Stern snapped his journal closed, the mask of judgement enclosing his features. Church bells rang in the distance and the black-clad figure lay suspended by invisible cords on the side of a tall building. It was daybreak. Shadows had no place in a dawn as radiant as this. The Night Angel leapt off of the building fading once again into the abyss. It was where he belonged.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter one: Alitaera

_Sniffle. Sniffle_. Sweat.. Vomit.. Sex- Brothel. Corvan Aldieron snapped open his eyes and soon became aware he was facing a rather kindly looking woman. Well, the backside of a kindly looking woman. He grumbled inhaling the air around him again and just about gagged "Fantastic.." He murmured. He knew Borami was not known for its hospitality but this… _What happens in Borami, stays in Borami I suppose_ he thought to himself as he slid out of the rather uncomfortable bed careful not to wake the one who would likely pawn more coin out of him. He didn't need to lose any more crowns. He winced as his bare feet touched the cold floor and as he stood he quickly became aware of the blazing headache he had acquired "Furthermore this morning proves to be fantastic." He murmured putting a hand to his forehead in a feeble attempt to calm his throbbing skull down_. C'mon please.. give me a break just this- Oww, nope. _Corvan blinked, and swiftly began to make his way around the room collecting articles of clothing _Right... tunic, shirt, necklace –Ooh! Four crowns, I'll take that..-coat, boots, belt, sheathe and sword.. I feel as if I'm missing something.. _Corvan looked around the room and sure enough, his britches had been slung high above the bed and were now hanging lazily on the horns of some Ymmuri animal right above the sleeping woman.

Stealthy escapes are never easy, are they? Corvan looked around for a way up –how the heck did they manage to get hung up there anyways?- to the animal head and luckily, the wall was smooth. No grooves. No convenient items to hold onto. No dressers to climb. Nope, just slick stone wall. However.. Corvan noticed long drapes that extended from floor to ceiling hanging lazily over a window on the closest wall. It was worth a shot he concluded and crept his way over. The second he tested the strength of the drapes he knew this was a bad idea but A: He wasn't going to walk outside pants less B: He really didn't want to shatter the sweet fiction that last night wasn't at all a mistake. Corvan tightly grasped the drape and began to shimmy upwards, using the wall as support for his legs. Every pull on the drape made their lone supporting rod creak but still, he continued. His dignity was worth more than his well being. _Oh light.. No, no.. Don't break.. That's it hold uncle Corvan.. You can do it. Uh-huh just a little more. Perfect. _He thought to himself as he made it up most of the way. He gathered a large bunch of the drapes in one hand and worked up his courage, which involved a quick prayer to his dead grandmother -Love you gam-gam- before lunging forth and reaching over to the animal. Not even close. Corvan swore under his breath and the drape support creaked with irritation which he swore was really anticipation of dropping Corvan on his neck. Oh, inanimate objects, payback will be a mother fucker. Despite his better judgement and the head-shake of disapproval from the metaphorical gam-gam he began to swing silently using his cat like reflexes to keep himself balanced. He swung back _Creak. _He swung forward and reached. Not close enough. He swung back _Creak. CREAK. _He lunged at the head again. Nope. He swung back _CREAK CREAK CRRREEAAAKKK. _He reached forward and felt the comforting fabric of triumph. His pants were now his agai- _CREAK CREAK CREAK CRRACKKK. _ Did I say catlike reflexes? I meant 'cow' like. The drapes gave in and he tumbled from about eight feet up onto the poor women. Drapes, pants and all. The woman awoke and let out a terrified yelp staring at him with a mixture of fear, confusion, and a look that said "_Oh HELL no". _Corvan smiled playfully, picking a pebble out of her hair "Well, good morning to you too. You see, these drapes bothered me."

Corvan soon found himself running out of the brothel with the woman brandishing a rolling pin behind him as he desperately pulled on his boot "Hey, this is all just a big misunder-" _WHACK _ "-Can we work this out?-" _WHACK. _Corvan, having acquired many bruises decided that now was the best time to sprint and that he did. The woman's shouts carried for blocks as he ran for dear life. As he ran out into the city streets of Alitaera's west capital he swore to himself upon whatever gods he could think of that he would never again screw with a women armed with baking equipment. –Never. EVER. Again-

~The Night Before~

A man clad mostly in black and gray wandered the fine cobblestone paths of Borami. Although the sun had long gone down, the streets still bustled with some activity. Fine horse drawn carriages lit the night as they navigated the many streets of the city some clearly lost in the tall colorful buildings, splendid and elegant architecture, open displays of culture and art ranging from statues to fountains and of course the bird's nest that was the cities many intertwining, circling, hopelessly outlandish streets. The stranger however, knew his way around quite effectively or at least knew where to go. He came to the intersection of fifth and second and bounded into a secluded lower level alleyway. Most alleyways in the city were reputed to be filthy shitholes filled with the worst kind of criminals, scum and assorted miscreants as the city had no real slum district. Strangely however, this one was just fine. He walked down the alleyway and opened a somewhat hidden trapdoor revealing a small ladder. He clambered onto the ladder –closing the trapdoor above him- and began his descent downward into the darkness. When his boots hit the ground it became evident that the floor was made of dirt or gravel but at least was dimly lit unlike the tunnel down. At the far end of the room was a large wooden door that had a small slit for people on one side to look through. The Stranger walked over and knocked. The slit opened and a threatening pair of eyes looked at the man "The moon, the shade and the dark." The pair of eyes said in a tone that threatened violence. The stranger simply replied "The sun, the stars and the light. These be the doctrines of the immortal. This be the code of our dawn." The pair of eyes showed comprehension "The society dictates, brother." The slit closed and a series of locks were unlocked over a handful of seconds. The door swung open on rusty hinges and a large mountainous completely bald and scarred man met the stranger, the crest of a rising sun emblazoned on his chest "The Society of the Second dawn welcomes you to Borami."

-End of Chapter One-


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Rumor

The market, bustling with daytime activity as per usual. The market district of Borami was less a district and more an explosion of stalls and salesmen in one area with no distinct order or placement. For instance, a Ladeshian man selling goats was placed right next to a Ymmuri selling odd trinkets said to do miraculous things, all hogwash of course but still, it must've made for interesting conversation between the two. "You, come! See soap-on-rope. All time. You.. Clean stay! Small price!" Every time Corvan had come to this district the Ymmuri was preaching his product's magical properties to anything that moved. It was a rather entertaining daily occurrence. It was a normal morning ritual until something hard clubbed him off of the boxes he had been balancing on. Corvan fell to the ground –to the profoundly uninterested crowd- somewhat dazed as he looked for the cause of his pain. It was then he noticed a very angry looking man brandishing a wooden club. Corvan's eyes widened, rolling out of the way and scavenging for a weapon. He felt a hilt. Corvan grabbed it without hesitation and leapt to his feet brandishing the – butter knife _Fuck._ The man looked at him sideways, almost laughing. Corvan brandished the butter knife in a semi-weapon like manner "Uhh, back away or I will…" Corvan paused, thinking "… Shove this down your throat." Okay, so maybe it wasn't the most threatening weapon. The man did laugh this time "Know what? I won't beat 'yer ass for sittin' on me crates just for the entertainment." The man said throwing the club down. Corvan chuckled half-heartedly as well and replaced the butter knife. What else could he do? Spread butter all over the man? The man returned to his baker's stall –Corvan also realized at this point that the club was in fact a rolling pin- and Corvan sighed, utterly defeated. But, he stole a loaf of bread just to be an ass.

Corvan continued his walk through the city, eating his bread casually when he saw a long mirror built into the side of one of the buildings. He peered at his visage and ran a hand through his shoulder length dark brown hair. In truth, Corvan wasn't a bad looking man. He was of Sethi and Cenarian descent, a rather strange combination with him leaning more towards the latter in skin colour but he had the medium stature and swordsman like build of a Sethi. His eyes were a strange blue and he had little to no facial hair preferring a cleaner look. He was a bit of a narcissist about these things. Once he had fixed his hair and appearance to his liking he took another bite of his loaf and walked on. Corvan soon entered the cramped lower district, a place filled with buildings for a more 'classy' sort of business than the market district. Corvan stopped and looked at a rather decorated sign of a hat-wearing-horse holding a tall tankard of some beverage and grinning like a fool. _The Grinning Mare _the sign read. He walked in.

The interior of the building was open but rather old. Smoke hazed the entire establishment, mostly from the zealous amount of candles present. The wood was splintered in parts and rotted in others but all in all, it was a descent place to eat or drink. However, there were maybe two or three patrons there. _Must've been a slow day..._ Corvan posed to himself moving to sit down at the bar area. An older man hobbled over to serve him from behind the counter "What can I get you today sir?" Corvan looked at him "Archangels rise." The man made a face of confusion bleeding away to comprehension "Right then." He motioned over to the small door in the corner of the restaurant below the staircase to the second level. The old man hobbled over and opened it for Corvan, waving him in. Corvan nodded in thanks walking down into the depths of the building. The room was long and thin, looking just like the restaurant above albeit without the smoke. It had many a painting, chairs, small tables and yet another door at the other end. Corvan sat down at the table to the right, ensuring to stay away from the one on the left. He knew there was a contact poison there. In a few seconds the door on the other end opened and a middle aged man with his short gray hair tied into a short ponytail and a physique comparable to a leviathan emerged limping over to the chair across from Corvan. Corvan stared at him. The man stared at Corvan. Corvan stared at the man. The silence was thick. It came as a shock when the man broke it with a raspy voice, every movement of his lips making his thick gray beard quiver "You've got a lot of balls coming back here, Corvan." The man rasped. Corvan nodded "I know. But then again, it was either this or try my luck with the Sa'Kage. And we both know how that goes." The man quivered standing abruptly, shaking his head and walking to the side as if thinking. Corvan rose from his seat, striding over to the man "So, what do you say old man?" The man looked at him before pulling him into a rough hug "It's good to have you back Corvan." Corvan chuckled dislodging himself from the old man's death grip "It's good to be back, Gibbet. " The man smiled, displaying his almost flawless teeth save one golden tooth. "Come! Come, the guild will be plenty happy seeing you again." Corvan chuckled "Right, I wouldn't mind seeing you bloody fools again."

In Alitaera, The Sa'Kage was nowhere near as affluent as in Cenaria. Here, the local Thieve's Guild ruled the streets and they followed a strict 'honor among thieves' set of guidelines and were likewise limited to it. However, their biggest flaw was that they didn't use wetboys. Gibbet chuckled, removing a metal container of some alcohol taking a draught before opening the other door. Inside was a spacious two-storied room with trophies of conquest littered all about. Tables, chairs, ornaments covered the room. In the center were a large fireplace and many pelts covering the artistically depressed floor. It was good to be home. Gibbet yelled "Oi louts, Corvan's back!" Almost instantly the large pentagonal second story interior balcony housed a few skilled looking people smiling brightly "Corvan!" yelled a man dressed in dark leathers. Corvan looked up "Good afternoon to you too, Serrit." He said, favoring the man with a small wave. A similarly dressed woman appeared from behind one of the decoratively placed and ornamented pillars with light brown –almost blonde- hair draped across one eye and almost to her shoulders. "Ashe." Corvan said in greeting. "Finally, the mighty mage has returned. Now which gutter did you crawl out of?" Ashe asked in an icy tone. "Well, actually I crawled out of a brothel. And by crawled I mean ran. I, err, kind've angered a few people." Ashe laughed "Always were the ladies men weren't you? Now, light the fireplace. It's freezing in here." Corvan chuckled tapping his Glore Vryden and summoning a ball of fire to the palm of his hand. He sent it flying into the fireplace, causing the pre-stocked wood and timber to conflagrate in magical flame. Ashe smiled "And just like that, we have our human-match back." Corvan rolled his eyes. Gibbet let out a choked laugh at the situation "Hey, don't berate Corvan too much now. Although, we've really needed you the past few months, a lot of fine loot has slipped through our fingers 'cause of us being mage-less." Gibbet said frowning. "I see you haven't changed at all Gibbet." Corvan added smirking wolfishly. Gibbet nodded.

Gibbet was a Warder of the Thieves Guild. Ranking was simple. It starts with a run of the mill independent thief with some skill as contrary to popular belief, they did not recruit just anyone. This was then followed by Prowler whom was an official extension of the Thieves guild and was granted entrance to one of the Thief Dens. From there, they could advance in numerous different ways from a trained Infiltrator, to a fighting Footpad, or otherwise depending on their skills. From there, they became one of the commanding persons from a Master Thief who trained the younger Prowlers, to a shady merchant Fence for all of your hot property needs, and an Assassin for obvious reasons. From their they could 'retire' in a way becoming a Warder as Gibbet had and run one of the Guild's legitimate establishments – and to operate covertly as master of one of the Thief Dens. The Warder's ran the guild with a loosely threaded underground council per say, with one Thief Lord reigning over them. No one Warder knew who the Thief Lord was, as his anonymity was his power over Alitaera. It was said that the title of Thief Lord changes hands every few years but it is unknown when and who takes over. It was a rather wonderful group to be affiliated with and it was unknown why their power hadn't extended far beyond Alitaera's borders.

Gibbet lead Corvan into one of the side rooms, taking him from the mass of members greeting him. "How's business been Gibbet?" Corvan asked semi-curiously. Gibbet shrugged "Meh. Well, I guess but let's get down to it. Shall we? The men stole a little jewel treasure thing from a merchant hailing from Modai. However, they didn't report back and our contacts in Modai have told us a rather convenient rumor that the merchant is paranoid and coming to Alitaera to hide the treasure in his complex in the East side of the city." Gibbet said in his best professional sounding voice. Corvan raised an eyebrow "And? You want me to help with the heist?" Gibbet nodded "Well of course. The complex is locked up tighter than a Chantry sister's-" "Yeah, it needs a mage's touch. Right?" Corvan said, predicting what Gibbet was going to say. Gibbet chuckled "Exactly. Just like old time's right?" Corvan nodded "Exactly like old times." Gibbet stretched his arms out widely, letting out a tiring yawn "Right, I'm promoting you to Master Thief and you get Arnell's old quarters." Corvan's eyes widened "That high? And Arnell bit the dust?" Gibbet nodded "Yep. He was one of the thieves sent to get the jewel. And of course I'm promoting you that high, you were and are one of my best. Especially considering the fact you survived that whole Ceuran mess! You will have to explain to me how that one went, sometime. Now go, get some sleep." Corvan rose from his seat smiling toothily "Thanks old man, and yeah, I will. Sometime." With that, Corvan walked through the door heading towards his new quarters.

Arnell's quarters were located in the large stone tower spiraling out of the Mare's exterior. It wasn't that tall, but it was the nicest room to occupy in the whole Den. Corvan opened the door and walked up the stairs to the first room. It was decorated with a simple table, chairs, kitchen area, and other things. He continued his way up the stairs to a second door, opening it without hesitation. The large bedroom housed a ridiculously big bed, a large window, dressers, a closet, and various other pieces of furniture. He flopped down onto the bed. Corvan was home, and it felt great.

-End of Chapter Two-


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: In Dreams

Writhing. Pain. Agony. The cityscape was covered in red. Corvan lay suspended in midair his eyes shut but open, a city glowing like a coal. His lids receded and he witnessed a blurry vision of destruction. Fire, everywhere. He looked down to his hands and they were blurry as if looking through water yet, they too were on fire. Everything was and he felt it. He wanted to scream but he couldn't, his voice was gone. Images and pictures flashed. A women's face, tears, some sort of war.. A glowing red stone, fire again, ships, flags black as night, and an angel of darkness watching it all. An armored man stopped running through the street as if to look at Corvan. He wore a tabard that clearly had a golden sun emblazoned on it. It looked like he was talking but- Corvan shot up. He was breathing heavily, and laying in a cold sweat. ".. Another dream." He said to the darkness. Corvan touched his forehead while trying to slow his beating heart. _'I need some air' _he thought to himself as he turned toward his window quickly unlatching it and throwing it open.

A gentle breeze fluttered into his lonely room. It was almost pitch black outside, a few hours before dawn likely. He ran a hand down his face thinking. He had been having these strange nightmares for a long time now, ever since Ceura. He thought back. It was a bright day, that day. A group of maybe five rode out of Ceura like bats out of hell with some intercepted chest of gold. Arnell turned to Corvan laughing giddily, "Fuck man! That was insane." Corvan chuckled "Agreed. They are likely going to have bounties on our heads by morning." Arnell seconded the chuckle "I would be insulted if they didn't!" Arnell, was a brown haired man of average build. He hailed from Fraiku, but few knew that as he wasn't one to speak of himself generally. He was constantly in good spirits and one of the best swordsmen the guild had in employ, hell that day he had slew three Ceurans like nothing. Another horse rode up next to them "Then there is all the more reason to ride hard now, and ask questions later." The man said, grinning somewhat despite the serious note. Heh, that was Niko, always the logical one. "You two done talking?" Came a feminine voice smiling as she out rode both of them. That, was Ashe. An interesting girl if anything, also the best rider they had –no pun intended. Niko looked to her, an eyebrow raised "Oh? And what if we aren't?"

Corvan chuckled as he reminisced. He then snapped back to reality. Corvan quickly threw on something that looked remotely presentable. Just as he was about to sheathe his sword a small knock echoed from the door. _'Who the hell?'_ He thought as he opened the door. Ashe stood at the door something of a mission etched on her face "Well, good morning Ashe. What can I do for you?" He asked in a hushed and sarcastic tone. What could she possibly want this early in the morning? "Hmmph, going somewhere?" She asked, her voice a dagger's edge. Corvan opened his mouth to reply before a dagger was placed at his throat. Fuck. She stepped in and closed the door. Double fuck. What did he say about screwing with armed women? Oh yeah. Don't screw with armed women. "Sit." She commanded. Corvan followed her orders and did exactly that. She then removed the dagger and pulled a chair over to face him. She stared him down. "What do you want Ashe?" He asked her. She visibly teared up, "You fuck." She said. "What? Ashe what did I-" She slapped him. Hard. "How could you? We were looking for you for months. We thought you were dead! I thought you were dead." Now tears were rolling down her cheeks. His jaw worked mechanically for a second "I- I didn't know you cared. I'm so-" She slapped him again "Don't you dare, take pity on me." Strange. The tears that were rolling down her face had now transformed her visage into something quite frightening, "Look Ashe, I had to hide. I didn't want to endanger any of you after what happened. I didn't want any else to die for my mistake. Two, lives are on my tab thanks to my stupid-idiotic-mistake. Do you –really- think I wanted to add more to that tab Ashe? Really? You really don't fucking think their specters haunt my god forsaken dreams? I never wanted anyone to die for me. Your life, everyone else's lives were worth far more than mine." Ashe stared at him, -damn those piercing blue eyes- somewhere between stabbing him and crying more. When she wasn't considering murder, Corvan thought Ashe was quite the nice looking girl, her almost stark blonde hair trailing down to her shoulders. She bit her lip before throwing the dagger across the room, skewering a painting, "Not- Just… Don't do that again. Or I swear to whatever god's there are I will kill you where you stand." She said shaking her head. Corvan went to speak before her slender finger touched his lips in a sign that meant silence. She wiped her face before getting up and abruptly leaving. The door shut behind her. Corvan stood in the darkness. What was he doing?

Ashe swore at herself. _'That prick, that fuck, that god damned- Ahh. God damn him for having a good reason. Damnnit.'_ She had been rehearsing that outside his door for awhile, letting her anger broil. Who did he think he was just waltzing back here like nothing happened? The entire day prior had been almost surreal to her. Corvan was dead to her five years ago, she had cried, she had etched his sacrifice deep into her heart and now it seemed as if- Damnnit, she didn't even understand what she was mad about. And what was that? She almost said, what? That she loved him? No, she wanted to stab him. Right. Stabbing is good. Ashe walked about the main common hall silently, heading towards her room. She heard the faint snoring of at least one of the thieves. She crept silently along the floorboards and went to slip into her room. The door creaked and Serrit stepped out of the room, arms crossed and eyebrow raised "Midnight stroll I presume?" He said lowly. She marched into the room with Serrit right behind. "Lemme guess, gone to vent on Corvan? Given the fact that your dagger is not with you and bloodied I am going to assume he is not dead so that's a good start." How had he known? Ashe frowned "How did you know?" Serrit smirked "C'mon Ashe, you were practically burning holes into the back of his head with that stare of yours. Also, you were particularly vicious when it came to using a fork." Ashe smiled "Well, I guess I did make it somewhat obvious." Serrit chuckled leaving her room "Get some rest Ashe."

Corvan sat on his bed shocked. He ran his hands through his hair. Did Ashe? No, of course not. His thoughts soon drifted back to his dream. He had been having them since Ceura rather sporadically, and every time they had been getting clearer and clearer. This one had been by far the worst. He had no idea what they meant, or why he was dreaming them he just was and that scared the hell out of him. Soon, almost predictably his thoughts changed to that of Ceura. Coran, Ashe, Serrit, Arnell, Auckes, Geralt and Niko had ridden from Aenu with the utmost speed for two days and finally, they had started to travel at a sane rate as they neared the border of Ceura. They had been ambushed twice by Sa'Kage insurgents. Both times however, they were easily dispatched with a combination of Geralt's magic and Auckes swinging his sword. "So, Serrit what do you suppose these wonderful treasures will go for when we get back home?" Auckes asked his friend. Serrit tapped his chin thoughtfully "Well, this is old Khalidoran gold, right? Should be enough to fund a new den. Or keep us fed for a very long time." Niko looked back "I wouldn't count on that. Ashe's hunger is ravenous." The group chuckled at her expense. It was Corvan who looked back first. A small cloud of dust was visible. He slowed his horse to a stop to get a better look. It was growing bigger _'What the hell?'_ He thought to himself. "What is it, 'Corv?" Niko asked slowing his horse aswell. Soon the dust cloud became totally visible. It wasn't a cloud at all…

"Ceuran outriders! Go! Go!" Niko yelled ramming his heels into his steads side. The rest of the group did the same, but the Ceurans were simply too fast and gaining on them quickly. In moments they were surrounded with weapons of all kinds pointed at them "What the fuck, they weren't supposed to catch on until today? How are they here already?" Niko said, baking away from one of the pikes. Corvan gulped. A Ceuran man dismounted. He was clearly a swordmaster yet, he only had maybe three locks of hair tied to his own. He was young "You, devil return to my companion his _ceuros_." He pointed at Corvan his eyes afire. "His what? Corvan, what the hell is he talking about?" Serrit asked. Corvan didn't reply and merely unsheathed an unfamiliar sword. Gasps echoed from the crowd of Ceurans "Take it, and no harm shall come to us. Agreed?" The Ceuran spat "We make no deals with the soul-less but.. I am willing to make an exception. I kill you all, and we retake the _ceuros_." The Ceuran smiled. Corvan didn't. "Well, I'm afraid we simply cannot make that deal." The Ceuran threw up his hands as if helpless "Isn't that a shame. Men, draw bows. We kill 'em all one by one." They turned on Auckes. The young man's eyes widened before he and his horse were skewered with arrows and spears. The young man's face was forever etched into Corvan's memory as his life bled out of him. Geralt screamed and slashed the two closest Ceurans. The crowd re-drew their bows but the lead Ceuran's upraised fist halted them "Men, grab him." He said to the Ceurans whom Geralt had slashed at. Geralt was not about to let this happen but he was nothing compared to six sword lords. He was disarmed and made to kneel infront of the lead Ceuran who dismounted "You think your tough, huh?" The Ceuran said. Geralt snarled "Your words, not mine." The Ceuran kicked him in the stomach "Hmmph. May the god's have mercy on you." He said as he drew his sword and raised it. The crowd gasped as the man's head rolled across the ground with a spatter of blood. His expression like Auckes before him was engraved into Corvan who clenched his fists in frustration. The lifeless corpse was dropped "Now, get the pretty lil' lass men." The ceuran man said. "No," Replied Corvan looking to the Ceuran "You let them all go free. You and I shall fight. Just us two, a duel to the death. You win, you get the _ceuros_ and my death. You lose and your crowd kills me and in the end, you all still get your _ceuros_. Satisfactory?" The crowd roared in agreement at the challenge. '_Love Ceuran honor' _he had Ceuran man looked displeased before shrugging "So be it, outlander. Men, release the pigs! We fight here and now."

Corvan looked back to his allies being ushered away "Go. Ride as far as you can from here." Ashe and Niko went to protest "GO. NOW!" He yelled. The crowd had backed away to form a large circle. Corvan breathed in deeply, letting his outer coat drop to the ground. He brandished his sword. The Ceuran bellowed and swung at Corvan. Their swords met with a resounding crash. The two were not well matched at all, the Ceuran outclassing Corvan many times over yet, Corvan felt totally at peace accepting his impending death with open arms. Parry. Counter. Riposte. Dodge. Swing. Their swords danced from end to end, the Ceuran almost playing with Corvan as he danced circles around him. There was something strange about the Ceuran's sword however, a large red gem glowed absently in its highly decorated pommel. It seemed to be lit from within. It was quite beautiful actually. Corvan swung around his sword dancing in a diagonal arc from shoulder to waist as he lunged at the Ceuran. The Ceuran easily sent it flying back. He was waiting for Corvan to do something stupid to make the kill look that much more fantastic. He was putting on a show. Fine, if that is what he wanted. Corvan unleashed a flurry of blows ranging from vertical strikes to stabs and leg sweeps. The Ceuran easily hit them all away almost smiling. The Ceuran then with all the more force hit Corvan's blade sending it flying into the grass. Corvan fell to his knee's eyes closed. The Ceuran drew his blade up obviously going to attempt to cleave Corvan in two. Whatever. The Ceuran swung his sword down and almost instinctively Corvan threw his hands up feebly to grab the blade in a form as if praying. Somehow it actually worked, and the Ceuran was a mere mask of shock. Well, Corvan was rather amazing. He then noticed that it wasn't Corvan he was shocked at. His blade was alight with iridescent blue flame. In a few seconds the sword became brighter and then everything faded in a flash of light. When Corvan awoke, he awoke in a small crater. But he didn't just awake. No, he was for the first time fully awake. Something had been bridged inside of him. He felt full and absolutely overflowing with energy a total mockery to the Ceuran that was little more than a pile of ash in front of him. The sword had shattered into millions of pieces impaling many a Ceuran. One Ceuran walked out from the crowd and looked to Corvan fear inscribed on his face. Corvan just looked at him deciding to use this advantage "Take the sword, and go." Within minutes the Ceurans had left as quickly as they came. In the months after that, Corvan had escaped Ceura and discovered he was magically talented and with rumors of a sword god wandering Ceura, he had wanted no part in giving any of the young Ceuran hopefuls the chance to test their metal. He was useful now.

Corvan once again found himself sitting on his bed thinking of Geralt and Auckes. _'They didn't deserve to die'_ He thought. He shouldn't even be alive.

-End of Chapter Three-


End file.
